


It Takes Two To Tango in A Magician's Waltz: Hisoka x reader

by hisokasecret



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Body Image, Comfort, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Domestic Hisoka, Dominant Hisoka (Hunter X Hunter), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forehead Kisses, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Soft Hisoka, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, snuggles, stretch marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26246032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hisokasecret/pseuds/hisokasecret
Summary: a compilation of Hisoka x reader threads first published on my twitter @hisokasecret! Expect soft fluff and the occasional angst
Relationships: Hisoka (Hunter x Hunter)/Reader
Comments: 66
Kudos: 326





	1. Stretched

**Author's Note:**

> "Hisoka?"
> 
> "Yes, my love?"
> 
> "What are we?"
> 
> You raise your head from the magician's chest, cupping his jaw with your palm as you turn his head to face you. His expression is unreadable, as always.
> 
> "I'm not sure I understand."
> 
> "This. What are- what are we doing?" You gesture to the bedroom, illuminated by a golden twilit glow, to the messy bed sheets, to your intertwined bodies. The magician sighs and looks up at the ceiling. 
> 
> "We are simply being."
> 
> Straight answers were never Hisoka's strong suit.
> 
> "No."
> 
> "No?" He cocks his head curiously, feigning innocence.
> 
> "Do you love me?" 
> 
> Your grip on the side of his face tightens and you force him to look into your eyes. Golden irises dance in the middle of his pupils; you would take a willing dive into his eyes and never resurface. Hisoka smiles, just faintly. Mirth rolls off him in spades. But beneath the smile, there is a twinge of sadness, of a young boy who never knew what it meant to love another.
> 
> "Oh, darling," He presses his forehead against yours, and closes his eyes. "Now, why on earth would you ask me that?"

CW: body image, stretch marks

————

It's dark out. A lone lamp sits on your desk, casting a muted glow over your quaint bedroom. The faint light from a laptop screen illuminates your face, as you tap away rhythmically at the keys.

"Come to bed."

"I'm coming."

"Now."

A hulking figure comes up behind you, strong arms snaking around your waist. Hisoka buries his face in the crook of your neck, and exhales slowly. You lean back, threading tired fingers through his hair. It's getting long. You'll have to give him a haircut soon.  
You turn to plant a soft kiss on his temple; he smiles against your neck.

"Soon." You sigh, closing your eyes.

"/Now./" His growl is impatient. In the next moment, you're hoisted into his arms, with no recourse for escape (not that you particularly want to). Your arms drape lazily around his neck. He smells like fresh vanilla soap and roses. He lays you gently upon the comforting sheets, and you burrow in. You're so tired, you can barely keep your eyes open. He climbs in after you, pulling the covers over the both of you as he opens his arms in a welcoming embrace. You dive right in, nestling cozily on his ample chest, breathing him in. Hisoka is the warmth of a fleece jacket in winter, he is the golden shards of dawn before sunrise, and the last thing that brushes your lips when you close your eyes at twilight.

You rest a hand on his neck, feeling the steady pulse there. You like to touch him there. He feels alive, and real. Oh, so real. You trace his jugular with your fingers, down to his collarbone,where you rest your palm on his beating heart. He grips your hand with his own, dwarfing it with ease, and he trails soft kisses along the delicate flesh of your palm, down your arm, up your shoulder, and your neck (you shudder a bit, but it's a good shudder), your jaw, your lips.

The build-up is worth it. 

"You're beautiful."

He murmurs into your mouth. You kiss him back, a chaste kiss before sleep. You open your eyes just a little; you enjoy watching him like this, up close. His eyes are closed, long lashes curling upwards, so pretty like a doll. But, dangerous too. Though never to you. He would never be a danger to you; his sharp claws turn into kitten’s paws with your loving touch. You smile at the thought. Golden irises stare back at you now. Hisoka grips your waist, your hips, pulling you closer to him. He runs a hand along the length of your thighs, absently tracing the raised bumps and cracks of your stretch marks. He must notice the slight tension in your body as he does this, for his eyes snap back to yours, and he cups your face with a hand, searching.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't- not those." 

You try to pull the hem of your shorts down a little lower, but Hisoka's hand doesn't budge. It remains planted on the curve of your rump, where thigh meets ass. 

He frowns a little, a small crease appearing in the center of his forehead.

"Stretch marks?" 

It's a direct question. You couldn't lie if you wanted to. You nod into his chest, trying your best to wrap your arms around him, but his wide torso makes this a difficult feat. 

"They're ugly." You mutter, finding it easier to make conversation with his chest.

Hisoka chuckles, a low rumble shakes his body and he gently eases you up to look him in the eye. He has the most endearing expression, a mixture of understanding, adoration, and a dash of mirth.

"My dear, your standards of beauty must be impossibly high."

For the second time tonight, he takes your hand in his, but this time, he guides you under the waistband of his pants,and for the first time, you feel the long, raised stretch marks that streak across his upper thigh. 

"Surprised?"

Your eyes widen slightly. You don't know why you never considered that Hisoka of all people would possess such marks. 

"I didn't think you'd have them too."

"Of course I do, silly. Everyone does."

Using your hand, he pulls the waistband of his pants lower. His bare thighs are bathed in the warm glow of your desk lamp, and you see it. The faint geographic marks, stretching across pale skin, raised cracks forming a delicate pattern.You reach out and touch them with your fingers, tracing each line like an intricate maze with no destination. 

"Beautiful."

You take a deep breath, and look back at the magician. His eyes are twinkling again.

"I hope you see that you are, too."

He kisses the tip of your nose, and resumes tracing your stretch marks, down your thighs, over the curve of your hips, cupping your ass as he pulls you closer.

You let him, content to let him map out elegantly patterned designs on your skin forever.The sensation sends tingles across your skin, but his touch is always comforting and you never tire of his skillful hands; always tapping, drumming, tracing, threading, touching- you. You drift to sleep, with your head on his chest, and his hands, a firm grasp on your heart.


	2. Bandages and Bluffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka returns home with a few more than shallow wounds. Will bandages suffice?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What did you do this time?"
> 
> "Children's birthday party- "
> 
> "You're such a compulsive liar."
> 
> "Ah, ah- you didn't let me finish. Children's birthday party, but it wasn't a child, it was the Troupe, and it wasn't a birthday it was a funeral. It was definitely a party though."
> 
> "You're impossible."

It’s a lazy Tuesday evening. You’re at home alone, banging about in the kitchen doing your best to prepare something for dinner, when you glance absently at the clock. Hisoka should be home in an hour, which will give you plenty of time to- 

The door slams open and you jump, very nearly letting out a yelp. The slam is followed by a muffled thud. Your stomach clenches and you immediately drop the knife you’re holding, and rush out into the living room, only to find the redheaded magician just across the threshold, half kneeling on the ground, clutching an arm around his middle. A dark scarlet stain blossoms from the center of his torso, and even in the short time that you’ve been standing there, it seems to be spreading. His face is contorted in pain, yet he frowns as if the injury is nothing more than an inconvenience. He looks up and sees your frightened expression. Even in his evident agony, he forces a professional smile and can’t seem to resist a coy quip.

“Hello, kitten. I’m back early.”

“Oh god, you’re bleeding.” You whisper, rushing over to close the front door and help him up. 

You’ve never seen him like this before, not with an injury this serious. His face is pale beneath the smudged makeup, and his usually impeccable hair is a tangled mess. He tries to remove his outer shirt but the wound is too much and he can’t even manage this.

“No, no! Don’t do that, let me-“ 

You shake your head frantically, and gripping his stained shirt with both hands, rip hard. The fabric tears with some difficulty and you can see the extent of the wound beneath. Darker dried blood lines the outer edges of the wound, staining his skin with rusty copper. You grab the nearby first aid kit and set to work, gingerly cleaning his wound and the area around it.

“What happened?” Worry and concern is clear in your voice, with just a hint of accusation. “What did you do?”

“It’s nothing-“ Hisoka winces as you prod the sensitive skin near his wound. You wince too. “A miscalculation on my part.” 

You stare at him incredulously. Even after all this, in such a dire state, he dares to call this /nothing/?

“Nothing? You barely made it home!” 

The magician shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, then winces again. 

“Stop moving.”

Though the situation seems quite bleak, one good point is that it does feel quite nice to be the one in charge for once, ordering him around like this. You work quickly and in silence. Hisoka watches you intently as you dress his wound. The concentration in your eyes, the way you are still wearing the cute apron he got for you ages ago, the look of thorough worry and slight panic on your face, worry for him. He smiles fondly, reaching up to cup your cheek with his hand.

“You’re so...cute.” He breathes.

“Don’t talk.”

Your words are harsh, but for the life of you, you just can’t hide your smile. Hisoka sees this and chuckles, dropping his hand from your cheek, leaving it to rest casually on your thigh. He watches fondly as you work quickly to stitch up his gaping wound. He simply adores watching you work. You grab a roll of bandages. 

“Sit up, I have to wrap this around you to make sure the dressing doesn’t come off.”

He sits up and leans into you as you carefully wind the bandages around his torso. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your shoulders and play with your hair, twirling the strands with his long fingers. He buries his face into your neck and-sighs, his breath tickles. You love the feeling but try to stay focused on the task.

“It’s done.”

You try to ease him off your shoulder, but he refuses to let go of you, his head still resting on your shoulder, his breath on your neck still sending shivers down your spine.

“C’mon let’s go, we can’t sit here all day.”

“On one condition.”

“What?”

He raises his head from your shoulder, a maddeningly sly grin on his face.

“Give me a kiss.”

He tilts his cheek up, expectantly. You can’t help but laugh. You should have seen this coming. With a sudden swell of confidence, you grab the magician by the collar and, ignoring his cheek, press your lips to his with such force that it knocks the air out of your own lungs. Kissing Hisoka is always breath-taking, even if you’re the one initiating it.

The moment your lips make contact, he lets out a low moan into your mouth, in pain or pleasure, you can never be sure. You start to pull back to give him breathing room (he does, after all, still possess several freshly bandaged wounds), but he slides his arms around your waist and pulls you closer instead. 

This time, it’s his turn to take the reins, bearing down on your lips with the hunger of a starving man. And still he manages to hold you so tenderly, cupping your cheeks with the softest intent, yet those same hands make their way to your lower back, stroking and caressing with something deeper than carnal need.

Hisoka’s ministrations certainly do a number on you, and you can barely think straight but the only thing keeping you present is the pressing concern that is his cotton bandaged torso that you keep brushing up against. You pull away from him, finally, gasping for air, a confused and slightly exasperated look on your face.

“Are you truly injured, or was this all an elaborate ploy?” You demand an answer, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, face flushed.

Hisoka doesn’t even try to hide his smug smirk, before feigning an expression of pure innocence.

“How could you doubt me, love? I am merely an opportunist.” 

Hisoka caresses your cheek and plants a loving kiss on the top of your forehead, before making a move to stand up. You help him up, and together, with his arm around your shoulders and yours around his waist, you make your way to your shared bedroom.

“You had better tell me everything that led up to this.”

“But, of course, my love.”

Tonight shall be a quiet night in, of brazen tales and whispered forehead kisses, of cherry red lips and a magician's best-kept secret.


	3. Mathematical Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You struggle to solve a simple math equation. Hisoka steps in to help. Who knew magicians were good at math?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Did you even go to school?"
> 
> "I find that rather offensive."
> 
> "I thought you joined the circus?"
> 
> "I could have learned math at the circus."
> 
> "Well, did you?"
> 
> "No, but that's besides the point."

It’s official. You’ve had it with this math module that you’ve been forced to take for your course. Who even uses Calculus on a daily basis anyway? Frustrated, you crumple the paper you’ve been working on and toss it behind you, expecting to hear a plonk In the bin. Instead, you hear this: 

“You really need to work on your aim.” 

Hisoka is standing in your doorway, holding the discarded paper in one hand, the other planted firmly on his cocked hip, an expression of pure amusement on his face. 

“Leave me alone,” you groan.

This is the last thing you need. You pick up your pen and get ready to make another valiant attempt at tackling your mathematical arch nemesis. Hisoka sighs and walks over to your desk, leaning over your shoulder to eye your work. His hand rests lightly on the back of your chair & you feel him behind you. He’s not physically touching you, but it’s driving you nuts.

“If you’re not going to help, then leave-” you turn around and start to tell him off, but he puts a finger to your lips.

“Have you done calculus before?”

You blink. His expression is contemplative and almost helpful. He picks up the worksheet & scrutinizes it carefully, ignoring your protests. 

“Give it back, Hisoka. It’s due tomorrow and I don’t have time for this!” 

You try to fight him for the worksheet but the lanky magician holds it out of your reach easily, continuing to look at the questions.

“I’m trying to help you, silly thing.” He rolls his eyes, picking you up easily and plonking you back into your chair. He replaces the worksheet on the desk in front of you, arms planted on either side of the desk as he stands behind your chair, trapping you in your seat. 

“Look, this is simple differentiation.” He picks up a pen and starts to write the equation on the worksheet. You sit there in awe. 

“I didn’t take you for a math whiz. Did you even go to school?” You can’t resist poking fun at him, and sure enough, it earns you a nudge in the head and a painful rap on your forehead.

“Pay attention.”

As Hisoka continues to write down the workings, you can’t help but notice how near his face is to yours, how close his arms are, how they’re flexed, the muscles rippling with every scribble of the pencil. He really is so toned now that you’re looking...

“ -did you get that?”

“Hm?” You're not sure how much time has passed, but his sudden question makes you jump and turn your face so quickly that your lips just barely brush against his cheek. You flush an embarrassing shade of pink.

Flustered, you jerk away, trying to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. This, of course, doesn’t escape Hisoka’s notice, and he smirks. 

“You say you need help, and yet you’re so easily distracted.” The magician purrs, running a finger under your chin to raise your face to his. “Let’s make a bet, sweet thing.”

“I’m willing to bet that you won’t be able to do this without my help.” 

The corners of his lips turn up in a cheeky grin. 

“Watch me,” you manage, tearing your eyes away from his piercing golden eyes and giving him a firm shove.

“Oh, I will.” He walks over to your bed and settles down in it, making himself extremely comfortable amidst your collection of stuffed toys. 

“Don’t touch them.”

“Make me.” One of the toys squeaks as he deliberately pinches its nose. He turns to you and tilts his head, feigning innocence. You scowl darkly and turn away from him to get back to work. You can do this, how hard can it be? You work in silence for a while, the only sound being the rhythmic shuffling of a deck of cards, and the occasional honk of yet another one of your stuffed toys being bullied.

After a solid 20 minutes of hard work, you put down your pen and let out a huge sigh of relief. Perhaps Hisoka did manage to impart some wisdom, though not through conscious teachings.

“I did it! and without YOUR help!” You turn to give Hisoka a smug look when all of a sudden, you feel yourself being pulled at the hips by an unexplained force towards the bed. You let out a yelp in surprise, as you’re launched, hip first, into his waiting arms, looking so incredibly pleased with himself. You want more than anything to wipe that cocky grin off his face. 

“You’re such an ass.” You plant your hands on either side of his cheeks and squeeze hard. “That’s for bullying my stuffed toys.”

He chuckles, taking your hand in his. He lays a soft kiss on your palm, and on the inside of your wrist, his other hand still wrapped around your waist as you lie on top of him.

“I should get a reward for winning the bet.” You declare proudly. Hisoka rolls his eyes and smirks. 

“How do I know you did it right? I should check your work.”

“Be my guest.”

You make a move to sit up, but he pulls you back down, an impatient hand on your neck forcing your head to rest on his chest.

“That can wait,” he murmurs, his lips brushing your ear and sending shivers down your spine. 

“On the contrary, I think I deserve a reward for being so patient.” His voice is husky and low in your ear. His hands begin to roam over your body, sliding under your shirt to caress your bare skin. Your breathing hitches, and you melt into his touch, wrapping your arms around his neck and gazing into his beautiful golden yellow eyes. You take the initiative this time, leaning down to plant a confident kiss on his supple lips.

He lets you take the lead, cupping the back of your neck and guiding you, as your hands find purchase in his wavy hair, twisting and pulling as your kiss grows more and more heated. His other hand rests on the small of your back, pressing your hips into his pelvis. Your bodies meld together perfectly, fitting each other’s shapes and curves. 

A well-earned reward for an arduous task, indeed.


	4. Pranking a Prankster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka returns home one day, in an unexpected way. In classic magician prankster fashion, you decide to surprise him, with an unexpected twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hold still."
> 
> "Are we doing something fun?"
> 
> "No! Be serious."
> 
> "You're so cute when you're frustrated."
> 
> "You won't think that in 2 seconds when I knee you in the--"
> 
> "Got it! Heard you loud and clear, darling."

“I'm home!" 

The usual singsong greeting rings out clear as day. Hisoka always loves to make a grand show of his return, taking great pleasure in seeing how much you've missed him. Today, however, you're feeling rather cheeky yourself. Whenever possible, at the first sign of his return, you'll be there, wrapped up in an embrace of blood and rose perfume. But not today. Today you resist the urge to run to the door; you shan't give him the satisfaction, oh no. You wait patiently, nose buried decidedly firmly in your current book of obsession. Today, it's Haruki Murakami's 'Kafka on the Shore'. It's an eccentric read, not unlike your lover.

The key in the lock turns softly. You hold your breath. In through the front door he comes. You hear the clack of his heels on the marble floor as he crosses the threshold. He's walking down the hallway now, coming towards you. You keep your head down, resisting the compelling urge to look up at him, and very nearly succeed. 

"No greeting for me today?"

Something is nagging at you to look up. Determined not to give him the satisfaction of your acknowledgement, you force yourself to stare back down at Kafka, rereading the same line over and over, desperately trying to distract yourself. There's a talking cat in this book? Cats talk? Since when? You'll have to reread it again later.

"No witty comeback? Are we playing a game, my love?" Hisoka continues, his tone one of amusement. He removes his heels and pads over to you softly, you can see him out of the corner of your eye, a dark silhouette.

Hang on a minute. He seems... darker than usual. Are his clothes stained? You frown. He'll be doing his own laundry this time, you've made it very clear that the only stains you'll be washing out are blood stains. Still, you keep your head down, and your lips sealed. This is quite exciting. Hisoka is getting closer now, you can sense him, even with your eyes trained on the pages in your lap. You can smell him too, he smells... burnt? Wait a minute.

"I'll have to take matters into my own hands, then."

His voice is suddenly right next to your ear, and it takes everything inside of you not to jump out of your skin. Unnaturally rough hands clamp down on your shoulders, and you instinctively jerk away. This does not feel like Hisoka. You finally look up. You drop your book.

And what a sight he is.

Aside from his signature jester-themed outfit, albeit blackened and singed, Hisoka is barely recognizable; his skin is the colour of burned meat, with whole flaps of skin flaking off in places like bits of charcoal.

He's missing several fingers, no, all his fingers on one hand, his hair, a fried mess, and his face- oh dear lord, his _face_. His eyes are bulging out of their sockets, the flesh around them having been burned away.

His nose is completely gone, leaving only an empty socket in the middle of his face where it once resided. You stare in horror and shock at the charred remains of a man who no longer even remotely resembles your lover.

"H- Hisoka? What on god's green earth-" The words tumble from your lips in a shocked stutter. The magician grins, and oh- you wish he hadn't. His lips have been singed off as well, and when he smiles, there's far more teeth on display than a healthy human male should have.

"Hello, gorgeous. Missed me?" 

"Explain!" You roar, looking up and down incredulously at this burned man who probably shouldn't even be alive.

"How are you- who- why-"

"Let's see," Hisoka put a finger to his chin, looking contemplative. It does not suit him at all, not with the bulging eyes and no nose, and too much teeth.

"Nen explosions, Chrollo and because I'm a rascal." He counts the answers off on the bony fingers of his remaining hand, flashing you yet another chilling smile.

"Please stop smiling."

"Why not? Don't you like it?" Hisoka pouts, acting wounded. Well, you suppose he _is_.

"I-" You open your mouth, getting ready to launch into yet another spiel about how his recklessness is going to get him killed one day, when a rather interesting idea pops into your head. Cats. Kafka on the Shore had cats. The idea solidifies in your head and you have to bite back a smile. Oh, this will be good.

"Just come here, let me fix you up." You sigh, feigning worry and exasperation.

Well, the latter you are, but for this to work it has to be a bluff on a tremendous scale: enough to fool the original prankster magician himself. You grab Hisoka (rather gingerly) by the arm and pull him into the kitchen, where you keep your first aid kit.

"You're being so gentle today." He muses, attempting to slide an arm around your waist. You bat his hand away with vigour and a stern glare.

"Don't get your burned bits on me, you're doing your own laundry."

You kick a stool towards Hisoka and expertly knee him in the back of his leg, causing his legs to give way, and he sits down heavily on the stool, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"That was kind of sexy."

"Shut up."

You grab the first aid kit, from the top shelf and dig through it, hoping to find what you're looking for. Aha! There it is. Your back is turned to the burnt magician, so you allow yourself a moment to smile deviously to yourself.

You grab the item of choice and take a deep breath to compose yourself, before turning back around, a serious expression on your face.

"Close your eyes and hold still."

"Close my eyes?" Hisoka's voice is slightly suspicious. "Are we doing something fun?"

"No, you clown, I'm bandaging you up!" You lie. Well, sort of. It's partly true.

"Well, I would, but," Hisoka points to his bulging eyes with a bony finger. "It appears I no longer have eyelids."

You mentally slap yourself. Of course not. They were burned off. Oh well, this will have to do. You hold up the band-aid that you're clutching in your hand and remove the plastic covering with a flourish. Here goes nothing. In one swift motion, you slap the adorable pink thing over the empty socket where Hisoka's nose once sat, and lean back, proudly admiring your handiwork. 

Hisoka Morow is sitting on a stool in your kitchen, burned to a biscuit, with the most adorable Hello Kitty band-aid on his non-existent nose, right smack in the middle of his distorted face. You start to giggle, and the more you stare at the bizarre scene before you, the more you feel the overwhelming urge to burst into full-blown laughter, clutching at your sides as you wheeze. Hisoka sits there for a few moments, realization of what you've just done beginning to dawn on him.

"What's this, love?" His tone is dangerous, but there's a hint of playfulness to his question. Your answer will determine your fate in the coming days.

"It's a present."

You compose yourself enough to bat your eyelashes innocently, as you sidle up to him. You weasel your way in between his legs and wrap your arms around him lovingly, cocking your head to one side as if awaiting his verdict on this present predicament.

"Don't you like it? It's pink, like Bungee Gum."

That was your best shot? Pink like Bungee Gum? Oh well, he _does_ love Bungee Gum. Hisoka's expression is difficult to read. Partly because most of his live tissue has been burnt right off, but even without that added challenge, it's still difficult to tell what the man is thinking.

"You think you're clever, don't you?"

Is this a trick question? You shrug noncommittally.

"Perhaps I do."

"Perhaps I agree."

Hisoka's chilling grin makes an appearance yet again, and he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

"Alright, handsome, keep it in your pants. I won't kiss you when you smell like an entire barbecue grill."

"Then what shall we do?" He whines, rubbing his face against your torso.

"Hey! Watch it, you'll soil my blouse."

"I want to kiss now." He can be such a child at times. Looking at him now with his face burned off and a childish band-aid on his nose, you can't fight off the smile on your face.

"Well, clean up! There's nothing I can do to fix _that_ and you know it! You did this to scare me, didn't you? Admit it!"

Hisoka's shoulders slump in defeat and he raises his charred arms in mock surrender.

"Alright, you got me." He stands up, and with a quick wave of his hands, he engages the invisible Bungee Gum and Texture Surprise to cover his wounds and reattach missing limbs and phalanges.

"Better now?"

"You'd still better go see Machi about this."

"Would you like me to go now? I wonder if she'll see me at this late hour?" Hisoka teases, pretending to look at a nonexistent watch on his wrist. You know he's only joking but even the suggestion causes jealousy to pool in the pit of your stomach. You've had your fun with the prank, and now you've waited long enough.

"Oh, shut up and kiss me."

You push Hisoka back onto the stool and straddle him, grabbing the front of his blackened shirt as you pull him close.

"I've been waiting for you to say that all night."

Hisoka laughs, sliding his thankfully smooth arms around your waist as he cups the back of your neck with his once again whole hand, guiding your lips to his. Your shared kiss is hard-fought and sweet, the taste of victory on your lips is oddly similar to a well-aged red wine. The sweetness is coupled with the lasting hint of smoke on your tongue; after all, Bungee Gum can't do everything.


	5. Capitalism is a Cockblock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka is due for a long job tonight with Illumi. You try to hide it, but of course, leaving is always hard when Hisoka is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "When will you be back?"
> 
> "Before dawn."
> 
> "Liar."
> 
> "When have I ever lied about things like this?"
> 
> "Constantly."
> 
> "You've got me there, but this time I promise, my love."
> 
> "You said that last time too."

"Pick a card." 

The magician holds the entire deck of bright red poker cards in one splayed hand, peering at you over the top, an arched eyebrow raised in amusement. You roll your eyes and make a grab for the leftmost card, yanking it, none-too-gently on purpose in a bid to try and shake his composure, but Hisoka remains unfazed, his hand still grasping all remaining 51 cards with ease.

"4 of spades." He muses. He holds out a hand to you. "Now give me your hand."

He puts down the deck and takes your hand in his, long nails scratching the back of your hand lightly. He places your chosen card in your open palm, and puts your other hand on top of it, clamping the card in the middle. 

"Hold it still." 

He caresses the back of your hand, his fingers brushing against your knuckles a tad more than necessary. Gripping your wrists, he raises your hands to his lips and plants a light kiss, grinning wildly. Your heart flutters at the touch of his cool lips against your flushed skin, and you can feel him smile against your hand. With a snap of his fingers, a puff of pink smoke rises from the back of your hand.

"Look at your card now." 

He takes your hand in his and peels it off the card, to reveal that the 4 of spades has disappeared, leaving a single stick of bungee gum chewing gum in your palm. 

"Bungee gum again?" you let out a sigh, yet can't keep the smile from creeping up.

"A piece of me for you when I'm away." He winks, cupping your face in his hand. You blush and try without any real effort to break out of his grip, but his steady hand turns your cheek, forcing you to stare into his piercing yellow eyes. You sigh deeply, and lose all will to struggle. His honeyed eyes with their golden irises never fail to mesmerize you; they’re gorgeous. He leans in closer, one arm snaking round your waist, pulling you closer to him. You can smell him now, the overpowering rose-scented perfume, a signature scent. You feel small in his grip, arm around your waist, hand cupping your jaw, his thumb rubbing tiny circles on your cheek. His expression is inscrutable. He stares into your eyes, and you feel vulnerable under his piercing gaze, as if he’s staring deep into your soul itself. His gaze lingers a bit too long on your lips. He leans closer still, and you can feel his breath on your face. 

“I wonder...”

He licks his lips.

Your breathing quickens, and you feel your face turn redder than before. Your lips part, and the space between your faces is infinitesimal. You stare at his lips, they’re soft and supple, you yearn for his touch-

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK_

Three loud raps on the door make you jump.

Hisoka closes his eyes and leans his forehead against yours, exhaling slowly. He stands up, pulling you with him as he opens the door.

“You’re early, Illumi.”

Illumi stood outside the door, his long black hair flowing behind him. His eyes gloss over Hisoka’s hand on your waist.

“No. You’re late.” 

Illumi gestures to his watch. It’s 8.02pm. 

“I think you better go,” you murmur quietly into Hisoka’s shoulder. You try to remove yourself from his grip, but his arm remains wound firmly around your waist.

“Illumi won’t mind.”

And then all at once, his lips crash into yours and your world explodes. One hand cupping the side of your jaw, the other holding the small of your back, as you meld your body into his. The kiss is passionate and you open your mouth to gasp, but he doesn’t stop to let you breathe. Your arms hook themselves around his neck, desperate for something to hang on to as your knees give way. Without breaking contact, Hisoka hoists you up onto his waist, guiding your legs to wrap around his waist as he backs you up against a wall, the kiss still heated and intense.

You’ve lost all concept of time, but at last, you have to break away, breathless. Admiring your flushed cheeks and heaving chest, Hisoka looks extremely pleased with himself, not unlike a cat that’s just finished a rather satisfying meal. Putting you gently back on the ground, he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and kisses your forehead tenderly.

“Don’t miss me too much.” 

Hisoka pulls you into a huge bear hug, enveloping you in his scent. You bury your face in his chest and breathe it in; his smell is always comforting.

When he finally lets go, you realise that you already miss him. 

Illumi is still standing there. While his face is devoid of emotion, you think he might be somewhat amused, though you can’t be sure. Hisoka leaves, making to close the door behind him but not without one last look back at you. His golden yellow eyes pierce your soul, striking you with a fierce longing beyond words. Without even thinking, you run towards him, ignoring Illumi’s presence and the eyeroll that he’s sure to be doing. Hisoka sees you coming, and lets out a soft chuckle, opening his arms to catch you in his embrace. His laughter is interrupted by a soft thud-- the sound of your cheeks colliding with his firm chest, and you bury your face in the soft fabric of his shirt, breathing him in as if he’s the last breath you’ll ever take; you’re clinging to it with every fiber of your being.

“It’ll only take a second, my love.” He whispers into your ear, kissing the hair on the top of your head, rubbing comforting circles into your lower back as he holds you close.

“I’ll be back before you wake in the morning.”

You make a face and pout. This is a last ditch strategy and it won’t work (you’ve tried this before), but at the very least it’ll make leaving harder for the magician. His expression softens and he lightly pinches your cheeks, sighing deeply.

“You’re making this incredibly difficult.”

“I know.”

“Didn’t you want me to leave just a few minutes ago?”

“I changed my mind.”

You grip the front of his shirt and tiptoe, trying in vain to pull him down and get his face to be level with yours. Hisoka appreciates your efforts and relents, leaning down and taking your lips one last time. This time, the kiss is soft and sweet, and a little lonely.

Illumi makes a sound, a low grunt as his way of voicing dissatisfaction. Hisoka sighs into your lips and pulls away.

Leaving is always hard. You try not to blink; that’s always the moment they disappear, in unison, the pair of them ever so in sync; you’ve seen them do this thousands of times, and still you can never catch them leaving. Months of practice has trained you to tell the exact moment that Hisoka leaves, though. In the split second it takes you to blink, his presence disappears. All that remains of him is a trace of rose-scented perfume, the signature cherry chapstick lingering on your lips, and the all too familiar ghost of his hands on your body.

As you watch his rapidly diminishing silhouette, you know without a doubt, that he’ll miss you too.


	6. Skilled Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka takes it upon himself to relieve your muscles of their aches and pains. How successful he is at this is left up for interpretation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Stop squirming."
> 
> "Your hands are ticklish."
> 
> " _You_ are ticklish."
> 
> "Just hurry up."

“God, my back is killing me.” 

You wince, rolling your shoulders back in a miserable attempt to ease the tension. Sitting at your desk for hours on end is definitely taking its toll on your neck and back.

“Let me have a look.”

The magician, previously sprawled across your shared bed, beckons for you to come closer. He pulls you down onto the bed next to him, positioning you to sit cross legged in front of him. You’re trapped between his legs, and suddenly very conscious of his bare chest behind you.

“Relax.”

Strong hands grip your shoulders, pressing your muscles to test the tension and pressure points. His deft hands travel down your neck and along your shoulder blades, feeling, caressing.

“Hisoka, your nails.” 

You hiss, jerking away from him as his sharp nails dig into the soft flesh of your shoulders. He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck, his nails digging even harder. 

After a while, his fingers reach a particularly tense area and you let out a whimper. 

“Does it hurt?” His low whisper in your ear sounds almost sincere, but the smug grin on his face betrays his true intentions, as he digs his knuckles further into the tender spot. You gasp, instinctively arching your back, your hips rubbing against him. This elicits a moan from Hisoka and you curse. Horny bastard. He revels in every bit of your pain. As much as you hate to admit, aside from the occasional jab of his nails, Hisoka is doing a fantastic job. His practised fingers knead and massage in all the right places, and you find yourself relaxing ever so slightly. You lose the tension in your shoulders and lean into him, your ass flushed against his pelvis. You consider this for a moment. Then, you shift in your seat, purposely rubbing your ass against his crotch as you readjust your position, teasing him. You grin. He lets out a low growl in response, pressing his hips into you. “Lie down.” His voice is husky and thick with desire.

“What?”

“Don’t think you can tease me and get away with it.”

And suddenly, you’re on your belly and Hisoka is on top of you, trapping your arms above your head. Expert hands reach under your shirt and run along your back, tracing the ridges of your spine. You shudder. He drags his nails along your skin, deliberately slowly. He massages your back and you let out a sigh. He’s so good. And then soft lips on your back, planting butterfly kisses down your spine. His hands continue to caress you, your sides, grabbing your hips. Your breathing hitches. The kisses grow impatient, turning into nips & bites along the skin of your neck and back. As shameful sounds escape your lips, you feel his length hardening against your ass. You can’t help but wiggle your hips in response. “That’s it.” 

You hear the fabric ripping before you feel it. As the cold air hits your bare back, you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the remains of your shirt in Hisoka’s fists. A split second later, he pounces onto you, flipping you onto your back, his weight preventing you from moving as he straddles you. The look on his face is that of unadulterated lust. It sends icy chills down your spine. 

Perhaps you went a bit too far. 

“Hisoka wait- I didn’t mean, mm—“ 

His lips consume yours, his tongue invading every corner, and your senses are filled with him. He smells of roses and tastes like desire. When he finally breaks contact, you’re left gasping for air.

“You talk too much.” His feral glare is enough to kill any retort you had on your tongue.

“Shut those pretty lips unless you’re moaning my name.”

He dips his head back down and continues his brutal assault on your neck while you wrap your arms around his. bare chest rubs against yours, and his hands. His hands never stop. He massages every inch of your body, caressing and stroking, every bit of contact sending bursts of ecstacy throughout your being. He’s perfect. His fingers dip below the waistband of your pants, intent on exploring your lower half. You gasp and run your fingers through his hair, twisting and pulling it. His lust filled moans are reponse enough. It’s all you can do to keep from losing your sanity. You surrender your body to him. 

“Hisoka, you’re a bad masseuse.”

“And why is that, doll?”

“I’m going to be so sore tomorrow.”

“Oh, I know.” Hisoka looks up, his yellow eyes drill into yours, his lips twisting into a cruel smile.

“I intend to break you.”


	7. A Good Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka finds you in a vulnerable place and pieces you back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "What's wrong?"
> 
> "Nothing, go away."
> 
> "You and I both know I can't do that, love."

“Leave me alone.”

God you hate how shaky your voice is. You cough to clear your throat, choked up with emotion. Too much emotion.

Hisoka ignores you, wooden steps creak as he takes a seat next to you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Surely you don’t expect me to believe that.”

You glare at him with bloodshot eyes. Can’t he see that you’re in the middle of something?

“I’m not in the mood for your bullsh—“

Strong arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close to him, your head bumping against his chest with such force.

“Let me go!”

You’re not sure you’ll be able to stop if he doesn’t.

“No.”

The magician says simply, his arms tightening around you. You’re enveloped in his scent, a lovely rose cologne and the strangely comforting remnants of dried hair gel. He rubs circles on your back with his palms, a rhythmic motion. This simple act opens the floodgates. He continues to hold you like this. You cling to him like he’s your last lifeline in a sea of strange men and lost dreams.

“I— I did a bad thing.” You sob into his chest. You feel like a baby.

“We all do.” His smooth voice rumbles and you feel the vibrations from deep within his chest.

“I hate myself for it.” 

“That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“Bold coming from you. You’re bad.”

He chuckles lightly, his chest moving up and down. You, with your head plastered against him, move with him.

“What’s so funny?”

“Is what I’m doing now bad?”

“I—” You’re caught off-guard. The way he’s holding you, so gently, stroking your back with tenderness. It couldn’t be bad. How could he ever be bad?

“No.”

“You can do bad things and still be a good person. You can be a bad person and still do good things. Not everything is black and white, dove.”

You fall silent. You try to time your breaths with his. In. Out. In. Out. It calms you. He sighs. You sigh. You close your eyes.

“You don’t have to listen to them.”

“Who?”

“The voices.” He detaches an arm from you and lovingly brushes your hair back from your face.

“Hey,” Hisoka cups the side of your face. “Look at me.”

You look up at him. He has the strangest expression on his face. You liken it to a mother chiding her child for crying after scraping their knee.

“The voices,” he repeats, tapping the side of your head with a gentle finger. “Here.”

You understand. He means your inner saboteurs.

“You know what you want.”

You want to nod, but a creeping panic rises in your throat, and you shake your head. You’ve let so many people down. You’ve let yourself down. You can’t do it.

“You know.” 

He insists, as if hearing your thoughts. He cups the back of your neck with his palm and brings your head close to his. Your foreheads touch. You share the same air.

“You are not giving up. Do you understand?”

His voice is harsh and stern. There’s a fire behind them, and you open your eyes. Golden yellow irises stare back. 

“I know it’s hard.” His voice is soft now. Your eyes are damp again. Your chest tightens. “Nothing easy is worth doing.”

You know he’s right. 

“Promise me you’ll try again.”

You nod, and wrap your arms tight around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder.

“I didn’t hear you.” He prods you in the side, and you jump slightly.

“You’re not making this easy.”

“Well, how do you think I feel?” He retorts, quirking an eyebrow. You roll your eyes, only half meaning it.

“I promise.”

“Promise what?”

“I promise that I won’t give up.”

The magician smiles. The first genuine smile you’ve seen from him. 

“Your words, not mine. And I’m not letting you go until you smile for me.”

“I can’t.”

You try to force a smile, but it looks more like a grimace.

“Then I guess we’ll be here a while.”


	8. Wake-up Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hisoka does not pamper nor baby you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are you done?"
> 
> "Done what?"
> 
> "Crying."
> 
> "I am NOT crying-"
> 
> "Denying it is worse, you know."
> 
> "I hate you."
> 
> "I know."

The light rain is a refreshing change, bracing against your cheeks as raindrops mix with salt stained tear tracts. You close your eyes, face turned to the greying skies.

“Why are you here again?” His voice is unforgiving, and unmistakable.

He poses a good question. Why _are_ you here again?

The footsteps stop at the top of the wooden porch stairs, rickety floorboards creaking under his weight. 

“To think.” You manage to keep the quiver out of your voice. Or so you hope. You wipe the tears away discreetly, but know that they do not escape his notice. His next few words are as cold and harsh as the wind and rain beating down upon your cheeks.

“You’re wallowing.”

“Am not.”

“You disgust me.”

The extreme distaste is evident in the magician’s voice this time around. You snap your head back to look at him. Hisoka is staring down at you with an expression of disappointment and disgust. Shock, anger and a building sadness fills your chest. He had no right.

You shoot him a poisonous glare. He doesn’t flinch.

“If you came to kick me when I’m down, then leave. You wouldn’t understand.” 

“What don’t I understand? I wiped your tears just a day ago and here you are again. Miserable and pathetic.”

Every word is a punch to your gut.

But he’s right.

“You think I asked to feel this way?” You snap back.

“Sitting on my front porch steps, soaking in the rain, saying ‘woe is me’ instead of doing something about it?” Hisoka puts a finger to his chin, mockingly pretending to be deep in thought.

“I am not doing that-”

“No, that is _exactly_ what you’re doing right now. Stop it.” 

His cold gaze is trained on you and you shiver, but not from the rain. You think about what Hisoka is saying, and there is truth to his words. They may not sound nice, but niceties are a treat and a luxury that we often can’t afford to indulge in.

You take a deep breath.

You won’t let this get you down. If you break at every little thing, how are you going to get on with life? You look at Hisoka.

He looks back at you expectantly, a single painted eyebrow raised. He knows you have it in you. You know too. He’s simply not one to spoon feed. You think about your conflict, your turmoil, and know that there is nothing you can do about them when you're busy crying your energy away. You bite your lip and stand up. You’re ready.

“Eyes dry?”

You nod. The corners of his mouth turn up slightly.

“Liar.”

He materializes a cloth from thin air and grabs you by the waist, holding your chin and gently dabbing your cheeks dry. You gaze into his golden yellow eyes, full of fire and burning. He could never be quelled by wind nor rain.  He is the sun, and a beast, barely contained in a human skin, and you yearn for an ounce of his passion for your own. His eyes bear into yours, and you hold his gaze steady, willing him to ignite a burning within your own heart. The hunger for more.

Something shifts behind his eyes and he breaks the connection, smiling just a little.

“Good.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

Hisoka replies by running the cloth through your damp hair. You love feeling his fingers in your hair, and shudder when his nails massage the tender spots on your scalp, and behind your neck.

“Come with me.” He finishes drying your hair and holds out a hand to you.

“Where are we going?” You ask, taking his hand anyway.

The magician smiles knowingly, a wild twinkle in his eye.

“I’m going to train you.” He turns back to look at you, and presses the lightest kiss on your knuckles. 

"There's so much more that you are capable of."


	9. If The Dress Doesn't Fit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shopping with Hisoka is always an ordeal, especially clothing shopping. Fingers crossed the dress comes off in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Come out."
> 
> "I'm not done, Hisoka."
> 
> "Show me, show me, show me-"
> 
> "This is why I can't bring you anywhere."
> 
> "You know you love me."
> 
> "And I hate that I do."

“Come out, darling.”

“Wait, I’m not done!”

“Perhaps if you’d let me in, I could speed things along.”

“Hisoka, I said wait-”

The curtains of the tiny changing room are yanked aside none-too-gently and you’re left yelping, clutching the half-zipped dress to your bosom, backing into a corner in a last-ditch attempt to cover up.

“Hisoka!” You hiss, glaring up at the presently smug magician. “You can’t keep doing that, I told you I wasn’t ready.”

“Why not?” Hisoka looks ridiculous, his hulking frame filling up most of the small changing room, his head sticking out above the top of its low partition walls. Half his body isn’t even in the changing room. 

“Because! People will stare.” 

“Is everything alright in there?” As if on cue, you hear the friendly sales assistant call from outside. She had been very helpful with the dress and you’d be damned if she had to get involved.

“Yes! All good!”

It was not all good, you glare at the smug magician. One hand gripping the dress to the front of your chest, you plant the other firmly on his unsurprisingly toned torso and push, in a measly attempt to get him out. He smiles down at your futile attempts. How adorable.

“Turn around, let me zip you up.”

“Don’t ignore me! I _just_ said-”

“You do need to be zipped up, don’t you?” 

With a practiced hand, he takes the hand pushing him and spins you around, the body-hugging satin of the dress falling loose and gathering at your hips, leaving your back bare and cold. You cling to the fabric at the front, clutching it to your chest as you face the mirror. You watch Hisoka’s movements in the mirror, humming softly as he gathers the fabric at the back. You jump when you feel a warm hand on your bare lower back, rubbing small playful circles. 

“I love watching your expressions.”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror and he croons playfully, fingers trailing up your spine, leaving a line of icy fire on your skin. You shudder involuntarily and his smile widens. It’s not that you’re not enjoying this but you’re quite cognizant of the open curtains of the changing room.

“Just get inside.” You mumble, pulling him further into the booth and reaching around him, a rather challenging task in and of itself given how big he is and how small the booth is. You succeed, in just barely yanking the curtains that are preserving your modesty as far as they will go.

“Well, this is snug.” Hisoka sounds far too pleased to be pressed up against you like this, his arms braced against the opposite wall of the changing room with you trapped between them.

“Shut up and zip me up.”

He grins cheekily, but obliges all the same, though his fingers have a disobedient habit of trailing beyond the track of the metal zip and caressing your back as he goes along. Hisoka tugs the zip over the final stubborn bump and leans back slightly, admiring you in the mirror, eyes trailing over your body from head to toe.

You suddenly feel very self-conscious in the mirror, being front and center, with Hisoka a keen-eyed observer in the background, watching your every move.

“What do you think?” You turn to the side and consider your side profile, placing a hand on your tummy and sighing. It’s always been a problem area for you and you run a hand over it, trying to smooth out the fabric and in the process, smooth out the folds of your flesh too. A hand grabs yours from behind and Hisoka rests his chin on your shoulder, piercing yellow eyes gazing directly into yours from the mirror.

“You look stunning.” His low murmur sends shivers down your spine, his breath tickling your exposed nape. His hands snake under your arms from behind and run along the length of your torso, over your curves and imperfections and you feel yourself tense up but,

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes never leave yours as his hands trail down your body, and everything else melts away, and it’s just you and him. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands eventually coming to rest over yours, enveloping your hands in his huge palms.

He turns his face inwards and plants a kiss on your neck, then your jaw. You shiver a little and lean into him. God he feels so good, you almost forget you’re still in public.

“Not here,” you whisper, hastily grabbing his arms as his hands begin to undo the zip that he’d just done up moments ago.

“Well,” his voice low and dangerous against your back. “We’d better hurry home because I’m not sure how long I can wait.”

“Well then, get out so I can change.” You push the magician away and after one last playful pinch of your thigh, reluctantly ducks out from behind the curtains.

You sigh, and glance in the mirror as you wiggle out of your dress. Your face is flushed and warm. Curse that clown.

“One more thing,” Hisoka pokes his head back in and you let out a yelp. “Get the dress. I like it, it suits you.”

“Sir, that changing room is occupied!” 

The nice sales assistant is just doing her job, so help you, you will  _ end  _ this clown. You glare at Hisoka.

“Get out!”

He grins and withdraws from the room.

You groan.

_ Really, curse that clown. _


End file.
